


Generations

by karasunovolleygays, mozaikmage



Category: Haikyuu!!, ダイヤのA | Daiya no A | Ace of Diamond
Genre: Accidental Flirting, Background OiDai, Drive By Enraged Waterfowl Encounter, HQ Rarepair Bang 2020, M/M, Sports Blogger Suga, Volbol Coach Iwa, fic with art
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-07
Updated: 2020-04-07
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:35:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23520082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karasunovolleygays/pseuds/karasunovolleygays, https://archiveofourown.org/users/mozaikmage/pseuds/mozaikmage
Summary: Professional sports blogger Sugawara Koushi writes an article about a volleyball match that bears special meaning to him and his former kouhai: a showdown between Kitagawa Daiichi and Yukigaoka Middle School, ten years after the teams faced off for the first time. He doesn't plan on capturing the attention of the world of sports journalism, and he certainly doesn't expect himself to end up having a thing for one of the coaches involved, one Iwaizumi Hajime.
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Sugawara Koushi
Comments: 4
Kudos: 86
Collections: HQ Rarepair Bang 2020





	Generations

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the 2020 Haikyuu!! Rarepair Bang. The fic was written by Karasuno Volleygays, the art by mozaikmage, and beta read by joshllyman (ilu kou).

Suga’s fingers fly over his keyboard as he types notes about the match without ever tearing his gaze away from it. It isn’t exactly the most fast-paced volleyball match in the world, but it is a middle school game. After watching his former kouhai play in the pro ranks, everything else seems like molasses in comparison.

The match-up itself is the story, though, Suga thinks. Ten years ago, almost to the day, he recalls these two very schools squaring off to advance in the summer tournament. That day, however, had yielded wildly different results. 

The Kitagawa Daiichi of ten years prior had been spearheaded by a misguided and frustrated Kageyama Tobio, and Yukigaoka by idealistic novice Hinata Shouyou. It had been as uneven as a contest between two teams of the same age could possibly be. 

This time, however, Kitaichi is led by a fleet-footed wing spiker who seems to carry his teammates’ will on his shoulders like the burden is nothing at all. Yukigaoka’s setter is a specimen of athleticism. Each step he takes has a purpose, every toss is right where his spikers need them, and nearly all of his serves paint the line and steal points from far more prestigious opponents.

Roles are certainly reversed for the teams’ repeat showdown.

However, as the third set presses on into a deuce, even Suga has to remind himself to take notes. 

Yukigaoka is electric, producing breathtaking plays to keep the ball live, while Kitaichi formulates their counterattacks to make sure their opponents never stop being off balance.

A single moment of silence crackles in the gymnasium when the final ball hits the floor, right before a raucous round of applause erupts. Most of the spectators are players from other teams, watching their peers compete in a showdown of a lifetime.

Though the journey has been radically opposite from the previous match between these two teams, the final results are the same. Kitagawa Daiichi’s bench empties onto the court, dogpiling on their teammates still standing in shock while the ball that had painted the line for the final kill still rolls back to the court after bouncing off the backstop.

The Yukigaoka boys are withering: all but one. Their captain and ace and backbone, a kid named Haru, stands in their midst with his back and shoulders rigid, hands balled into fists at his sides. 

Suga knows the look. Haru’s heart is in his throat, the only thing holding back a wave of misery and ugly tears. He’ll certainly leave that part out of the article on the match, but it’s impossible to keep the flavor of it out from between the lines because it’s a feeling Suga understands all too well.

Flipping the lid of his laptop closed, Suga follows the masses as they file from the stands. Most of the other players are buzzing with enthusiasm to be in their own version of this epic showdown. Most of them never will, Suga knows, but he hopes each and every one of them do exactly that.

The usher blocking the way to the players’ area eyes Suga strangely when he flashes his press pack, but nonetheless she allows him to head toward the locker rooms. He manages to snag a moment with Yukigaoka’s coach, who offers the exact series of comments Suga had already mocked up in his rough outline of the article.

Soon after, Suga knocks on the door of the Kitaichi locker room, which is flooded with the joyful throes of victory. He’s almost surprised when the door opens, but he is definitely surprised when he sees who is on the other side of it.

“Can I help you?” says Iwaizumi Hajime, a former rival from high school volleyball and current coach of the Kitagawa Daiichi Middle School volleyball team. Also, he hasn’t been up close with Iwaizumi as far as he can recall, and he’s pleasantly surprised that Iwaizumi is actually kind of gorgeous.

Suga blinks, biting his bottom lip so his mouth doesn’t hang open stupidly. Finally, he says, “Do you have a moment to talk about the game, Iwaizumi-kun?” He holds up his press pass and smiles too broadly. “Pretty please?”

Iwaizumi snorts. “Why do you look like you think I’m gonna bite you or something?”

Face red, Suga hides it behind his laminated press pass and groans. “Sorry! I just didn’t expect to know you already.”

“Huh?” Iwaizumi’s eyes narrow as he stares down Suga, gaze dragging over his every feature until a sliver of recognition alights. “Oh, yeah, you’re that setter from Karasuno that drove Oikawa nuts.” He guffaws. “Well, that puts you on my good list already. Sure, I can spare a few minutes. Just gimme a second, yeah?”

Without waiting for an answer, Iwaizumi sticks his head back through the door and shouts, “Hit the showers, you smelly little bastards!”

When Iwaizumi turns back to Suga, he’s met with a poorly stifled giggle. “You remind me a little of Ukai-san. The more he insulted us, the more we knew he loved each one of us like the kids he never wanted.”

“I don’t know how to take that,” Iwaizumi admits, but he holds his hand out nonetheless. “Anyway, Iwaizumi Hajime, if you don’t already know. This is my first year as head coach, and I teach science at Kitagawa Daiichi.”

“Sugawara Koushi.” Suga accepts the handshake. “I’m the online sports blogger for _Kahoku Shimpou,_ and also the only one on staff who knows jack about volleyball.”

Iwaizumi laughs out loud. “Well, with credentials like that, I guess I’m in good hands.” Crossing his arms, Iwaizumi leans against the brick wall next to them. “So, what brings a writer for the biggest newspaper in Tohoku to a middle school volleyball tournament?”

Starting the recorder on his phone, Suga grins. “When I saw the match-up for today, I couldn’t resist. It’s the first time these two teams have squared off in volleyball since the match between Hinata and Kageyama ten years ago. I would’ve come anyway, but it happens to be an interesting topic for a nostalgic ‘Where Are They Now?’ kind of thinkpiece.”

Nodding, Iwaizumi says, “I had the same thought. I had the guys train extra hard for this one, especially since Yukigaoka steamrolled the last team they faced in the tournament. I’m happy the boys stepped up to the occasion. I’m really proud of them.”

Watching the way Iwaizumi glows when talking about his team makes Suga’s belly churn. “I can see that. So, what have been the challenges you’ve faced as a new coach at a school with such a long-standing pedigree for excellence at volleyball?”

The rest of this interview also goes according to Suga’s predicted course, save for the way his entire body tingles when Iwaizumi claps him on the shoulder in thanks for highlighting his team. When he finally turns off the recorder, Suga beams at Iwaizumi. “I’m really happy I ran into you! If you have anything else you want to add, here’s my card.” 

Iwaizumi accepts Suga’s business card, but not until Suga scribbles his personal mobile number on the back. “I’ll probably publish the write-up tomorrow morning, so don’t hesitate to give me a jingle anytime before six.”

“Six in the morning?” Iwaizumi shivers at the concept. “Are you planning on being up all night?”

“Yep!” On cue, Suga yawns loudly. “Actually, this is super early for me to be awake, so I haven’t actually slept yet.”

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes. “Oh good grief, you’re as bad as Oikawa! Go get some rest before I make you run laps or something.”

Suga salutes with a guffaw. “Yes, sir!” He feels Iwaizumi’s gaze on his back as he saunters away with far more confidence than he feels.

So he just flirted with the Kitaichi Coach and a former rival, and the strange part is that Suga is sorry to see it end.

He keys in a quick text to his roommate. _I think I just hit on someone I was interviewing >.< _

A response comes fairly quick, as Suga expects with his roommate, a pro baseball player, currently on a bus to Tokyo for a three day series. _You wouldn’t be you if you weren’t scandalous. Was he funny, smart, or just pretty?_

WIth a sigh, Suga answers, _All of the above._

The laughing emoji he receives in response makes Suga want to hide his blushing face under his shirt, but he waits until he escapes the building and is on a bus of his own back home before he even tries.

Despite his earlier declaration of intent to take a nap, Suga does no such thing. The words flow freely from his fingers, lacing together for an epic account of a match that lived up to the hype Suga went into it with and then some.

An hour later, his first draft is complete. However, as he reads through the first few paragraphs and finds a dozen grammar mistakes, Suga admits defeat and passes out facedown on his bed clothes and all, awakening well after dark with a fresh brain and renewed resolve.

A text on his personal cell awaits him from an unknown contact, but it doesn’t take long to figure out who sent it. _Hi, I was just wondering if you need a roster or anything._

Not having given his non-work number to the Yukigaoka coach, it has to be Iwaizumi. He immediately adds the contact. Fidgeting in excitement, Suga replies, _I have that already, but now I have your number, too. ^.^_

_You know, that would be creepy if you weren’t you._

Suga’s breath catches at the remark. Iwaizumi already has Opinions about him, and from the sound of things, they are favorable ones. 

_Thanks for checking back with me, though. I appreciate it. I just need to tweak the article some more before I send it off. I’ll send you the link when I put it up._

Pumping his fist when he receives a thank you and a painful text emoji smile with a nose included, Suga vaults out of bed to his laptop desk and gets to work.

***

The article kicks up a perfect storm of attention. Hinata, one of his most devoted readers, shares it on Twitter, and various other players from the pro ranks also circulate it. Even Ushijima manages to find it and Like it on Facebook.

Iwaizumi is also quick to comment, letting Suga know the article is printed out and hanging on his office wall.

Nothing is more surprising, however, than the notification that arrives through the post notifying him that he has been nominated for the Online Journalism Awards’ sports award category. “Holy shit,” he exclaims aloud when he reads the letter four times to make sure he isn’t hallucinating or misunderstanding.

From the kitchen, Suga’s roommate, Miyuki Kazuya, lifts his head up from the vegetables he’s chopping with a raised brow. “Is that a good ‘holy shit’ or a bad one, Suga-chan?”

“I —” Not sure if he can answer that, instead he holds out the letter in front of Miyuki’s face to read for himself. “So, uh, yeah.”

When Suga lowers the paper, Miyuki is grinning. “That’s the one about the middle school game, right?” Suga nods. “I agree with them. I don’t know anything about volleyball, but I still liked reading it. The history involved was really rich.”

Suga drops into one of the kitchen chairs and reads the letter a few more times just because. This is it. At the tender age of twenty-seven, he’s being offered a chance at recognition that thousands of journalists will never get. It takes a moment for him to realize his hands are shaking.

“Kazuya, this could be it. The big leagues.”

Miyuki salutes with a wooden spatula. “Just don’t forget us little people who helped you along the way.” 

“Never!” Suga declares, and his evening falls back into some semblance of normalcy, with Miyuki cooking while whistling and Suga staying the hell out of his way. 

After dinner, Suga snaps a picture of the letter and sends it to Iwaizumi on impulse. A few minutes later, a wave of thumbs-up emojis arrive in response, as well as a brief, _You deserve it._

Chuckling under his breath, Suga murmurs, “You text like someone’s dad, Iwaizumi-kun.”

Suga scrolls through his text history with Iwaizumi after he heads to bed early, with a full day of high school baseball tournament matches lying in wait for him the next day. He even bites back the urge to ask Iwaizumi if he cares to come along. 

His coverage of the event is aimed to be a basic summary rather than a feature, so he could spend all afternoon staring at Iwaizumi’s stupidly handsome face and still be able to do a respectable write-up from the box score. Miyuki being home for the week after a road trip doesn’t hurt, either.

But he doesn’t. Instead, he sighs at his phone before plugging it in to charge for the night, resting up for his long, hot, sweaty day at the ballpark.

***

Close to a month passes, and Suga nearly forgets about the letter in a flurry of sporting events on his to-do list. Between the rest of the middle school tournament, the high school baseball matches, and the occasional tennis invitational, his writing time is almost entirely during the event in question.

Here and there, however, he peeks at it on his pinboard over his desk and dances a little bit in his chair. 

Now, though, he can’t think of anything else because the announcement for the winners and runners-up is in less than a day. His night is fraught with ridiculous typos he can’t believe he’s making, but his head is not remotely in the vicinity of a baseball game called in the seventh inning due to the grossly lopsided score.

Suga is dozing with his forehead on his desk, finally tired enough to nod off after a day full of nerves, when his phone rattles to life right next to his face.

“Jesus,” he mutters, yawning before hitting the Talk button. “Sugawara,” he answers the unknown caller.

“I’m calling for Sugawara Koushi-san,” the cheery voice on the other end of the line says. 

The formality makes Suga inhale sharply. “That’s me. What can I do for you?”

“Excellent!” The woman’s pitch racks up half an octave, and Suga can’t help but vibrate with excitement in kind. “My name is Suzuki Hana, and I’m calling on behalf of the Online Journalism Awards panel.”

Suga swallows hard. He’s been waiting for this call, whether he wins or not. However, now that it’s here, he wonders if he actually wants to know. 

It’s not his decision to make, he muses as Suzuki forges on. “I’m extremely happy to say that your article has been selected as the winner for the Sports category. Congratulations!”

Mouth hanging open and words evaporated before they can even escape. His body does the talking as he bounces on the balls of his feet.

“Sugawara-san?” she asks.

“Yeah,” he squeaks. “Sorry. I’m just . . . processing. Yeah, processing.” 

Suzuki laughs. “Understandable. Anyway, you’ll get your plaque delivered tomorrow. There’s an awards presentation in Tokyo in September. You’ll be receiving the details by email shortly.”

“Thank you, Suzuki-san. I’ll be there.” The call ends, and Suga sets his phone on his desk. 

After he stares at it for a full, braindead minute, Suga leaps into the air, pumping his fist with a _whoop._ “Hell yeah!” Nobody is there to hear it besides him, but he can’t contain the rush of pure joy bubbling over from his insides.

He’s still pacing around the apartment when Miyuki returns from his night game. “Uh, Suga-chan, you look like you’re waiting for someone to have a baby.”

“I won!” Suga throws his arms around his roommate, duffel bag and all, and squeezes for everything he’s worth, drawing a wheeze from Miyuki. “I won the award!”

Catching his breath, Miyuki beams at him. “I may be biased, but I thought you would. This calls for a celebration.”

“So pizza and beer?”

Miyuki claps Suga on the shoulder. “You know me too well. I’ll buy.”

“You’re on!”

***

The high of his win carries on throughout the week, and the enthusiasm it brings with it helps him power through a barrage of articles to keep up with the sports section now that one of the other guys in the department is out to cover an international tournament. He even has to drag himself into the main office three times each week for meetings. Gross.

It’s a Friday night after one such gross meeting that Suga wearily trudges up the stairs to his apartment. His work is done with the day, and nothing is due until Sunday morning. He has a day and a half for sweet, well-deserved free range sleep.

He nearly falls on his behind when he opens the door to a raucous chorus of, “SURPRISE!”

“What the hell?” Suga rasps as he eyes the horde of people in his apartment. Miyuki stands in the midst of it with a tray of sushi and a broad grin. Also there is Miyuki’s friend Kuramochi, who must have come all the way from Chiba for this gathering.

His longtime best friend Daichi waves, his arm around his boyfriend’s slim waist. Said boyfriend, the one and only Oikawa Tooru, flips Suga an okay gesture. “Hey, hey, Refreshing-kun!”

Also in attendance are Asahi and Kiyoko, joined at the hip by her husband Ryuu. Asahi smiles too wide and waggles his fingers in greeting, and Kiyoko blushes while Ryuu sends him a pair of finger guns. “Way to go, Suga-san!”

“Okay.” Suga turns to Miyuki and repeats, “Once again, what the hell?”

Miyuki tilts the platter of sushi, revealing a frame of neatly cut rolls and _omedetou_ piped in wasabi on the center of the tray. “Happy ‘This is the day we could get the most people together to celebrate your award thing’ Day!”

“I —” Suga swallows hard, looking around at his flock of friends coming together in his honor. Miyuki had even broken out the sushi stuff, which he only does for super special occasions. “You guys . . .”

Suga’s voice drops off when his eyes lock with the last person he expected to randomly find in his apartment. “Iwaizumi-kun?”

Iwaizumi’s cheeks redden, and he offers a pained smile. “Oikawa told me I’m a boring bastard and need to get out more, so I got dragged to a ‘friend of a friend’s’ house party.” Slinking off the couch, Iwaizumi navigates the small crowd and offers Suga a handshake. “If I’d known it was for you, I wouldn’t have argued with him for twenty minutes.”

A peal of laughter floats from Suga. “Well, I’m glad you’re here. I’ve been meaning to text you anyway.”

Oikawa gawks at the two of them, gaze flitting back and forth between them. “Wait, you two know each other?”

“No shit, Oikawa.” Iwaizumi snorts and flicks Oikawa in the forehead. “He wrote the article about a match my team was in. How could I _not_ know him?”

“Didn’t see that coming.” Daichi throws his head back and cackles. “And here I invited Iwaizumi to deflect some of the chaotic evil having you and Tooru in the same room would bring.”

“Dai-chan!” Oikawa crosses his arms and pouts. “You’re a terrible boyfriend and you should feel bad.”

Daichi rolls his eyes. “Yeah, sure I do.” He and Iwaizumi share a fist bump before Daichi crushes Suga with a vise-like hug. “Congrats, dude. I always love your stuff, but that was definitely the best one.”

The flood of well-wishes continues, ending when Suga drops onto the nearest flat surface and pleads for mercy. “Need to breathe, guys.”

“You heard the man.” Asahi shepherds everyone away save for Iwaizumi, to whom he shoots a sly wink. “Suga needs some alone time.”

Titters fill the room, but Suga ignores them as he tugs Iwaizumi into the bathroom and sighs while sprawling out on the floor next to the shower stall. “I’ve had a really long day. I just need a minute to get my shit together.”

Iwaizumi snorts. “Didn’t even know you could get tired. You’re up all night all the time, I was starting to think you don’t actually sleep.”

“You’re not wrong.” Yawning loudly, Suga grabs Iwaizumi’s wrist and pulls on his arm. “Stop looming.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Iwaizumi sat cross-legged across from Suga and shook his head. “Man, if Oikawa did that, I would’ve dropkicked him into the ocean, pulled him out, and did it again. You’re lucky you have actual moxie.”

Suga leans forward, propping his chin in his hands. Sighing, he says, “So you _do_ find me charming.”

Bright red floods Iwaizumi’s face, and he stares into his lap. “How can you say shit like that with a straight face?”

Holding his breath, Suga’s mind races with all the possibilities of his next statement, but they all blend into muck in his exhaustion-addled brain. “Nothing straight about me, Iwa-kun.”

Iwaizumi’s jaw hangs slack, eyes wide. “I, uh . . . what —” He rakes his fingers down his face and groans into his palms. “Man, I have zero chill.”

“Good.” Suga beams at him. “I don’t suppose it’s gauche to ask you out in my bathroom, is it?”

“A little.” Iwaizumi quirks a lopsided smile and bumps Suga’s shoulder with his. “But I have a feeling normal rules don’t apply to you in, like, anything.”

Suga links his elbow with Iwaizumi’s and slumps into his side with a sigh. “You’re definitely catching on.” His eyelids flutter closed, the dragged-on day catching up with him in the aura of steady warmth that is Iwaizumi. 

He jerks back awake, earning a laugh from Iwaizumi. “Don’t make fun of me!” Suga whines. “It’s not my fault you’re cuddly.”

“I wouldn’t dare.” Iwaizumi’s eyes meet Suga’s, and both of them lean forward for a hint of a kiss.

They fly apart when the bathroom door bursts open, admitting a red-faced Daichi and a sea of curious faces. “Uh, I hate to spoil the mood, but I really have to pee.”

Waggling his brows, Suga smirks. “Can I watch?”

Next to him, Iwaizumi dissolves into a chuckle poorly camouflaged by a fit of coughing. Suga sticks out his tongue but hoists himself off the floor to let Daichi have the room without an audience.

Suga’s energy levels rise when he gets a hold of the sushi platter. Miyuki has blackmail-worthy knowledge of Suga’s favorite foods, including his affinity for eel roll slathered in wasabi. The first bite is accompanied by an indulgent groan. “Oh god, these are gorgeous.”

Iwaizumi picks a few pieces off and puts them on a disposable plate, guffawing at Suga’s comment. “You are definitely a gusto kind of guy, aren’t you?”

Giving Iwaizumi a thumbs-up, Suga answers, “Anything worth doing is worth doing full steam ahead.” His lips wrap around a piece of sushi, and he doesn’t miss Iwaizumi hanging onto his every movement.

The rest of the evening passes in a blur of congratulatory ribbing and a series of stolen glances. Iwaizumi is one of the last to leave, despite having practice early the next morning. Suga’s only appointment is for sleep, so he stays up through the last of their guests.

His smile is wide when he sprawls out on the couch, arms draped over the back of it. “Thanks for that, Kazuya,” he says to his roommate, who drops on the couch next to him. “Unexpected bonus of today is Iwaizumi-kun and I are going out to dinner Sunday night.”

Miyuki laughs out loud and mimics Suga’s pose. “You are absolutely shameless. Good for you.”

“I’ll keep you in the loop,” Suga says through a yawn. “I should go to bed, but my legs don’t work anymore.”

Suga yelps when a far more energized Miyuki hefts him off the couch and over his shoulder, depositing Suga on his bed with a bounce. “Night, Suga-chan.”

“G’night, Kazuya,” Suga murmurs, his eyes already drifting shut for some much-needed rest.

***

The weekend drags by as Suga waits for his outing with Iwaizumi. The place itself is nothing special, an old ramen place that has always been somewhat of a legend for Karasuno students for years. Iwaizumi has never heard of it but agrees to it quickly once Suga starts describing the shoyu ramen.

Finally, the evening comes, and Suga changes his outfit at least six times before Miyuki intervenes. “You look fine, Suga-chan. You’re never this nervous about anything.”

Suga swats away the hand on his shoulder. “Don’t make fun of me. I haven’t been on a date in years!”

Miyuki snorts. “If you want me to stop, you’re not allowed to pick on me ever again for not dating.”

“No fair!” Suga whines, but it’s a request he intends to do his best to honor. He will absolutely fail and Miyuki knows this as well as Suga does, but the effort is appreciated nonetheless.

At last, Suga settles on a pair of skinny jeans that make his ass look _really_ good and an artfully ratty t-shirt to complete the ensemble. 

Exactly two minutes early, Suga’s text alert sounds, signaling Iwaizumi’s arrival. Miyuki shoos Suga toward the door, and he jogs down stairs on shaking legs.

Outside the front entrance, Suga finds a pink-cheeked Iwaizumi holding out a single rose in a remarkably similar shade. Suga takes it and inhales the sweet scent. “Ooh, the June birthday flower! How did you know?”

“Uh, what?” Iwaizumi glances back and forth between Suga and the flower. “You’re a June baby, too? I picked it because my mom always gave me a pink rose on my birthday since I was a kid, and I always love getting them. I thought I’d, uh . . . pass that on to you.”

Suga’s head swims at the utter lack of guile in the statement. “God you’re so sweet I kind of wanna punch you,” he gasps.

“You . . . what?” Iwaizumi’s hands slide into the pockets of his well-cut navy blue trousers, his blush deepening. “I mean, you can if you want to. I’d like to see you try.”

Grinning, Suga tucks the de-thorned bloom behind his ear and cracks his knuckles. “Sounds like a challenge, Iwa-kun. You think you’re up to it?”

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes. “I grew up with Oikawa. I could housebreak wild chimps at this point. I’m good.”

“Touché.” Suga offers an arm, and Iwaizumi takes it. “Shall we?”

They walk to the restaurant due to its proximity, and half an hour later, they’re seated with weathered plastic tumblers full of iced coffee and waiting on the other to break the ice.

Finally, Iwaizumi takes that leap. “So, uh, Suga-kun, how did you know you wanted to be a writer?”

Suga’s eyes widen at the question. “Nobody’s ever asked me that before. Usually, people just ask why I wanted to write or what kind of stuff I write outside of my column.”

“You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.” Iwaizumi’s fingers drum on the tabletop, and Suga knows he certainly hopes the question will garner a response. “Other than the hours you keep, you seem like the kind of guy who can do anything he wants if he tries hard enough.”

Shaking his head, Suga sighs. “I wouldn’t say that. I’d file myself more as a jack of all trades, master of none. But anyway, how did I know I wanted to be a writer?” 

He props his chin in his palm and ponders the question. “I think it was in college. I was working toward my degree in education before I realized that while I would like it for a while, I couldn’t see myself doing it for the rest of my life. I always did well in creative writing, so I decided to give it a shot.” 

A smile spreads across Iwaizumi’s face. “Usually, anyone I talked to about it said something about muses or their writing having a will of its own and they’re in charge of none of it.”

With a scoff, Suga chuckles. “Oh, that’s definitely true; I’m just a hired set of fingers when I’m writing. But there’s a difference between satisfying that pedantic little bastard haunting you with ideas at three in the morning and actually taking the step to make a career out of it.”

“I bet you’re right,” Iwaizumi agrees before he snaps up straight. A moment later, Suga notices their server approaching them with two gloriously steaming bowls.

Suga groans out loud as he inhales the savory scent of shoyu ramen. He wonders how Iwaizumi will react when he takes the shaker of seven pepper spice on the table and dumps a bunch of it into his bowl.

The reaction is sufficiently awestruck when Suga does just that, and Iwaizumi takes a long drag off his iced coffee just watching Suga’s cursory taste test. 

Conversation dwindles as both of them tuck into their meals. Every time Suga looks up from his noodles, he catches Iwaizumi’s gaze fixed on him. 

Bowls empty, Suga pushes it back and slouches in contentment. “I’m so full.”

“Oh god yeah.” Iwaizumi mirrors Suga’s posture and groans. “I already love this place. I kind of wanna live here now.”

With a thumbs up, Suga beamed. “A man of taste. After all, you are going out with me.” His entire skin tingles when Iwaizumi blushes and sputters in reply.

Once they scrape themselves out of the booth, they leave arm in arm. Suga hums an absent tune while their hips brush here and there. Their languid gait finally brings them to a nearby high school, tickets to their first kabuki show of the year burning a hole in Suga’s pocket.

Their seats are a few rows back in the center section of the auditorium, and the rest of the chairs around them fill up fast. 

“I was hoping you’d be cool with something like this,” Suga says. “I know you spend your whole day around teenagers, but I’ve wanted to see this one since the posters went up. I was gonna bully Kazuya into going with me, but he’s much happier at home watching hours of video just to find some sort of tell for the pitcher who keeps striking him out.”

Iwaizumi cackles and settles into his chair. “Nah, I like this kind of stuff. Plus, it’s fine when they’re teenagers I don’t have to look after in any way, shape, or form.”

“Right you are.” Fighting the urge to take out his phone to jot notes for a possible article, Suga runs through the program with Iwaizumi until the curtains begin to open.

A couple of hours later, they emerge from the auditorium with Suga wielding a pretend katana. “I will avenge my family’s honor, for I am the Ronin!”

“Yeah, yeah, swords away until we get out of this swarm,” Iwaizumi chides through a lopsided grin. “We definitely need to go see more of these. I always end up missing the ones Seijou puts on because something always seems to come up.”

Entire being buoyed by Iwaizumi’s easy demeanor, Suga busies his hands wrapping them around Iwaizumi’s solid bicep. “A good show, indeed.”

Iwaizumi’s face flames the whole way to the nearby park.

The sun down and the last vestiges of dusk burning a halo around the trees, the two of them follow the rubberized walking track into the heart of the well-kept park. 

“Oh, damn,” Iwaizumi murmurs when they come upon the tea gardens. Vines climb around wrought iron fences while shocks of colorful flowers flank either side of the walking path.

Suga nods absently, his eyes riveted by the beautiful scenery. “Best. First date. Ever.” 

Iwaizumi tugs them to a stop and takes Suga’s hands in his. “As embarrassing as this sounds, I haven’t been out on a date in forever. I kind of forgot what it’s like.”

“You’re doing great,” Suga whispers, inching closer to Iwaizumi until their chests are pressed together. “Actually, everything is kind of perfect.”

“It is.” Iwaizumi’s lips brush against Suga’s. “Next time, can _I_ take _you_ out?”

Groaning, Suga leans into Iwaizumi. “You can take me anywhere, Iwa-kun.” 

Suga guides Iwaizumi to the fence surrounding a tranquil pond in the heart of the park. Sitting on the wooden top rail, he wraps his legs around Iwaizumi’s waist, arms draped over his shoulders, and he crushes their mouths together.

The feel of their lips moving in tandem, of Iwaizumi’s strong fingers pressing into the curve of his hips, makes Suga’s entire skin tingle. It’s been a while since he’s kissed anyone, not to mention doing so at such an extraordinary angle.

They tear apart for breath, but Suga’s chest aches from the lack of it when he looks down at Iwaizumi. Heavy lidded silver eyes meet Suga’s, and he shivers when he sees the tip of Iwaizumi’s tongue trace his lower lip.

“Eh, Suga-kun,” Iwaizumi murmurs before nudging a little closer. “I don’t normally jump into high gear on the first date, but I don’t think we’ve had a single normal minute since we met.”

Suga swallows around the lump in his throat. “I-Iwa-kun,’ he whispers, and he shivers in anticipation.

Iwaizumi’s fingers drift underneath the front of Suga’s shirt, the roughened tips blazing a trail of electricity along the way. His breath comes in ragged bursts as Iwaizumi’s lips follow suit.

“Oh, fuck,” Suga hisses, tightly grasping Iwaizumi’s hair by the roots. “You can jump me any way you want.”

The journey ends when Iwaizumi’s lips find Suga’s once again. Limbs wrap around limbs, and for a moment, Suga forgets everything but the heady sensation of 180 centimeters of pure raw manhood ravaging him.

It isn’t until his rear slips off the top rail of the fence that Suga realizes the situation brewing. He only has time to shoot Iwaizumi a wide-eyed glance before he falls backward, the momentum carrying his date along with him. 

They land with a splash in the pond. Flapping wings from the disturbed geese chuck loose feathers onto the two of them, spitting and sputtering as they peel themselves out of the muck beneath them.

“Oh, that’s gross,” Suga whines as he palms glomps of pond slime from the seat of his pants.

“Yep, definitely gross.” Iwaizumi glowers at the smeared sludge caked to his knees. 

Their eyes lock, and the two of them burst into wheezing laughter until Suga doubles over from the ache in his gut. 

Amusement turns to yelping, however, when a dozen displaced geese speed toward them. “Oh, shit,” Iwaizumi hisses under his breath. He grabs Suga’s hand and drags him along for the ride while he runs as fast as the murky bottom allows.

Clambering up the fence, Suga and Iwaizumi sprint from the park as fast as their legs will carry them, their geese pursuants hot on their heels until they make it half a block away.

Suga keels over panting from the effort when they finally stop safely. The nearby pedestrians gape at their haggard appearance, but once he can stand up straight again, Suga only has eyes for the way Iwaizumi’s wet button-up shirt clings to his chest.

“If I knew you looked so good soaking wet, I would’ve dunked you the moment we met.”

Iwaizumi colors and shushes Suga. “How the hell can you say that out loud?”

Ignoring the ever increasing swarm of onlookers, Suga loops his arms around Iwaizumi’s waist and grins. “Now, where were we?”

With a sigh, Iwaizumi relents when Suga sweeps him off his feet and starts on the short trek back to Suga’s apartment building. “Why do I even ask?”

Suga’s belly clenches — whether from excitement or overeating, he isn’t sure — when Iwaizumi settles into his arms with a sigh. “You know, Suga-kun, you sure know how to sweep a guy off his feet.”

“Wait ‘til you see what I can do when I’m not covered in goo.” Suga smirks and holds Iwaizumi just a little bit closer. 

They arrive at Suga’s building just as his thighs are ready to give out, and he sets Iwaizumi back onto his feet. “This was a lot of fun,” he says. “I hope we get to do this again without the pond.”

“Definitely.” Iwaizumi snares a kiss before backing away. “But if we’re gonna keep up this dunking business, warn me next time. I’ll wear less clothes.”

Suga waggles his brows. “Next time I dunk you, I’d rather you not be wearing anything at all.” He waves over his shoulder, a peal of laughter following him up the stairs.

Inside the apartment, Miyuki sits at the table poring over videos on his laptop, brows drawn in concentration. “Have a good time?” he asks without looking up.

Instead of a reply, Suga peels off all his clothes save for his boxers and drops them on the lid of the washing machine. Miyuki’s eyes widen, but he doesn’t ask. They’ve known each other too long for that. “I assume that means yes.” 

In his room, Suga starfishes on his bed and sighs. “Oh, yeah,” he declares at the ceiling. 

He surely didn’t set out to snare him a hunk of hot, dorky athlete when he started his article on Kitagawa Daiichi versus Yukigaoka, but as it had been all those years before, it’s the start of something new and exciting.


End file.
